Götterdämmerung
by AlanSchezar
Summary: To a man who had, in days of youth, already watched his father depart and held the hand of his dying mother, had tread on the toes of God in the attempt to resurrect her, and stared into the pitiless eldritch eye of The Gate and had two of his limbs torn off for the attempt, what was fear?


It was the unbearable stillness that clung to him like a pall, Ed realized, which made his presence so chilling. Stillness and silence, unbroken save for the faint, incessant ticking, were his sign and seal.

He had apparently stood behind Ed for some minutes before a soft, inexplicable ticking caused the young chemistry professor to turn in alarm, still clutching the scrap of paper he found secreted inside the empty shell of the uranium bomb. As Ed had tried to comprehend the sudden intrusion of the sinister figure, he found himself suffocated and terrified by the utter stillness of his presence.

Even more bewildering was the blankness of his mask.

Ed found himself staring into a pair of stark, lifeless, impenetrably black lenses. The shaded glass disks, like the sterile, black steel gas mask which framed them, offered no clue to what lay beneath. Despite this, they seemed to bore into him, reflecting the shock and alarm which were painted across Ed's youthful features. In the span of that disorienting moment, Ed found himself face to face with the most horrific man he had ever laid eyes on.

~-~-~-~-~-~-0-~-~-~-~-~-~

In the spring of 1930, which had followed on the heels of a cruelly cold winter, Professor Edward Elric was stirred from his familiar haunts at the Chemistry Institute of the Humboldt University of Berlin by the prodding of his friend and mentor, Professor Einstein.

"It will be unbearably dull, for the most part," Einstein said, finishing the sonorous note of his violin and laying aside his bow, "And so I must insist that you accompany me, my friend, that we may commiserate and make things a little more bearable."

"How does that make things more bearable for me? I wasn't invited in the first place!" Ed said with a bemused smirk as his friend drew another deep puff on his briar pipe.

Although he feigned disinterest, Ed was in fact eager to go; for years he had been frustrated in his search for the missing uranium bomb. He strongly suspected that it was already in the hands of Thule or the Nazis, and what better place to search for leads on the most dangerous technology in history than at a meeting of Germany's greatest minds?

"Will you be presenting your work on the Unified Field Theory, Professor?" Ed asked as he packed up a few papers in his messenger bag, glancing out the lounge window to the clock tower across the plaza. The hands crept closer to five o'clock, the setting sun blazing gold on their polished surfaces.

Einstein shook his tousled head, the corners of his unkempt moustache curling upward as he replied with a smile, "No, I think not; most of those fellows, though brilliant in their sterile, mathematical way, lack the imagination to see what I see in the workings of the universe. They would laugh me out the door as a loony if I mentioned it!"

"I can tell you from personal experience that you're on to something, Professor...believe me on that."

Einstein merely shrugged and grinned, pipe in one hand, the other thrust into his trouser pocket as the two colleagues fell in step together. "But you are a man of prodigious imagination, Edward. Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds," he added wistfully.

They made an early start the next morning, and after a long but pleasant train trip across the Bavarian countryside, found themselves strolling through the venerable doors of the main ballroom of Hotel Torbräu in Munich. In keeping with the esoteric habits of its attendees, the evening reception had an informal dress code. Ed for one was pleased not to have to put up with the unyielding stiffness of starched linen that white tie demanded, choosing a gray checked three piece suit with a cobalt blue tie. As was his habit, he concealed his automail hand with a pair of white kid gloves. Einstein opted for a black gabardine three piece suit with a wing collared shirt and black four in hand tie.

They strode together to the buffet, where Einstein took two flutes of champagne, handing one to Ed. "I notice," he remarked, "That the distinguished Planck is here...that is indeed a stroke of luck!"

"Why, are you hoping to get his views on your theory?"

Einstein glanced at his young companion with a wry smirk, "Do you think of nothing but work, Edward? No! I was hoping to win back the hundred or so Marks he beat me out of at our last game of Skat! The man has an uncanny knack for cards..."

Ed narrowed his eyes at his mentor, "Are you kidding me? You came half way across Germany to gamble at Skat with the father of quantum physics?"

"Not precisely," Einstein replied, his eyes twinkling and the corners of his moustache curling upward with a mischievous smile, "I came half way across Germany because the Dean required me to attend. A game of Skat with Max is merely one of those many happy coincidences by which we who play at dice and cards may understand that God does not."

Ed rolled his eyes and took a sip of champagne, the bubbly tingling on his tongue as he continued to eye his companion with incredulity, "You're not even the least bit interested in asking a genius like Max Planck about his views on your theory?"

"When I am ready to consult my distinguished friend Max on that particular theory," Einstein said with a nod toward Planck, who had just acknowledged his presence with a warm smile and a friendly wave, "I will invite him to play piano to my violin - the man is as skilled at the ivories as he is at cards - and I have no doubt that we shall tear back the veil of mysteries and lay bare all the secrets of the universe! For now, we play Skat. Would you care to join, Edward? I'm quite sure you will learn a trick or two."

Ed smirked and shook his head, "Enjoy yourself, Professor. I'm going to wander a bit and get my bearings."

"As you like!" the elder man said, striding off with a wave over his shoulder.

Edward watched the two geniuses greet one another with a warm embrace, smiling like long lost brothers. He couldn't help but notice, however, that a few of the nearby guests betrayed looks of distaste at the affinity between the two. So even here, among such great minds, the insidious philosophy of the Nazis could be felt. _How very scandalous, _Ed thought bitterly, _that the great Max Planck should be so friendly with a Jew!_ It was the vilest hypocrisy that the scientific community should malign the man who had revolutionized physics and brought such prestige to Germany simply because he was Jewish.

He turned away, feeling suddenly ill, and took another swig of the fine champagne. He wished Al and Noah were there; even having lived in this world for nine years, it still felt alien to him when they weren't around. To add to the general feeling of isolation, his feverish devotion to his work combined with their secret quest to find the uranium bomb left little time to schmooze with the academic community, so that now he stood surrounded by mulling crowd of total strangers.

Wandering aimlessly through the mass of unfamiliar faces, Ed's gaze caught sight of a striking piece of artwork hung near a pair of double doors which led into a corridor beyond. For lack of anything more engaging, and still at a loss where to begin seeking leads on the bomb, Ed decided to divert himself for a while by perusing the paintings that hung about the room.

He was engaged in study of the painting, a seventeenth century piece depicting a battle between Saracens and Teutonic crusader knights, when the enticement of the slightly open door to his left became too much to bear. He found himself drawn to the relative serenity of the corridor beyond, and with a surreptitious glance around him, he slipped through.

Quietly shutting the door behind him, he found himself in a long, pillared corridor lined with suits of armor and paintings, lit by the dim light of several sconces mounted along each wall at intervals.

He strolled at a leisurely pace along the corridor, halting periodically to gaze at one or another of the venerable artworks lining the walls. He paused in front of a large suit of armour not unlike the one that had for so long contained his brother's soul. He took a sip of his champagne as a bemused smirk curled his lips.

As he did so, he thought he saw a shadow flicker in his peripheral vision, as if someone had entered the corridor behind him. Startled, he glanced back at the door to the ballroom, but the corridor was just as before: empty save for himself. He was about to turn back when a faint click, like the latch of a door catching in its jamb, came to his ears. He stared again down the empty corridor, knitting his brow in confusion. Stillness and the faint murmur of the crowd of intellectuals in the ballroom were all he perceived. He gave a shrug, glancing into the dark, hollow eyes of the empty armour. "Too much champagne...?" he murmured as he continued down the hallway.

Suddenly, the sensual whisper of distant music wafted to his ears from the far end of the corridor. It had sort of scratchy, tinny quality that suggested it came from a gramophone. Although he wasn't an expert by any means, his close association with Professor Einstein had exposed him to a great deal of classical music, particularly German. Was it Bach? No...Wagner, he decided, perhaps a piece from _Der Ring des Nibelungen. _As he drew closer, it became louder, the music rising to a crescendo as he neared the door at the end of the hall. He paused, a shiver running through him as he noticed the door was cracked a couple of inches, as if in invitation. His gloved automail hand hovered a moment, poised just above the shining brass door handle.

He gritted his teeth, inwardly chastising himself for being stymied by childish fear, and gripped the handle. He gave the door a decisive push and strode inside.

He was met with a small sitting room, elegantly if sparsely furnished, lit only by a fire blazing in a heavy set stone hearth to the left of the door and the beams of moonlight streaming from the uncovered window opposite. The walls were lined with dark, oaken book cases interspersed with alcoves that housed more artwork, mostly German militant subjects.

In the center of the room stood a small round table flanked by two plush leather wing back chairs. A small crystal decanter filled with red liquid, likely sherry or port, sat on one side of the table. Some of the liquid had been poured into a snifter that stood beside it. On the opposite side of the table sat a leather bound notepad and a fountain pen. Ed peered curiously at the odd place setting before letting his gaze wander around the room again. It was then that he saw it.

Under the large arched window at the far end of the room stood a small square table with a glass display box built into the top, and inside sat the unmistakable steel and brass form of the missing uranium bomb.

Ed nearly dropped his champagne in his haste to get to the table. He set the flute carelessly on the edge of a sideboard nearby and rushed to the window. He traced his fingers over the glass lid of the display box, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing. After nine long years of fruitless searching and inquiry, year after year of turning up nothing, he had suddenly stumbled upon it. He glanced around quickly to ensure he was truly alone before attempting to lift the lid; it opened easily. He set the lid fully open and traced his fingers over the dull sheen of the bomb's metallic shell. He gripped the circular valve handle on the top and prepared to hoist it out. He nearly toppled over as the bomb flew upward under his effort; it was extremely light. Too light.

He peered at it in confusion as the firelight danced over its dark surface. How could it possibly be so light?! Uranium was an exceptionally dense element, a fissible amount such as the bomb would require must be fairly heavy, but this thing felt like it was a hollow ball! He glanced at the pressure valve mounted to the outer casing and his heart dropped into his gut; it read zero. He braced the shell between his knees and wrenched on the valve. It twisted out easily and he unscrewed it, slowly drawing the uranium mounting bracket out of the lead lined steel casing. The uranium was gone, but in its place was a small, neatly rolled scroll of paper tied in a crimson ribbon.

Ed's head swam; what the hell was going on?! Where was the uranium core, and what the hell was with this little scroll!? He grasped the paper with trembling fingers, drawing it out and dropping the remnants of the bomb quietly onto the plush carpet. His mind still reeling with ever mounting horror, he unfurled the scroll and stepped into the shaft of moonlight streaming through the window. The chilling note was written in German with an unnervingly precise cursive hand, and seemed to be addressed to him:

_Good evening,_

_I regret to inform you that our little treasure is not_  
_to be found here tonight. Still, it was good of you_  
_to come. I have long sought to meet you. Such an_  
_intriguing man you are. Once I learned of what you_  
_did to that insufferable wench, Eckhart, my interest_  
_was piqued. I believe that you and I have much in_  
_common, and now I know all I need to know about_  
_you. Do seat yourself._

_-Your kindred heart, K.R.K._

It was just then, as he stood staring at the note held in his trembling fingers, a sickly feeling of dread rising in his throat, that the soft ticking began its sinister intrusion into his consciousness.

He whirled on his heel and found himself face to face with the vision of genteel horror.

He stood there, clad in a black double breasted suit, crisp white linen shirt and a crimson tie with a striped black and red pocket square neatly folded into three points. Every aspect of his appearance screamed of precision and cold calculation, from his gleaming white collar, to the precise dimple in the center of his tie, to the razor edged crease of his trousers, to the mirror sheen on his black oxfords that was matched only by the sheen of his steel gas mask. No glimpse of flesh was left exposed to view, his neck and the back of his head encased in a tight fitting, slightly glossy material that vanished beneath his collar. His hands were clasped placidly behind his back, his tall lanky frame towering over Edward as he stared. Or at least he _seemed_ to stare; who could tell what was happening beneath that horrid, impenetrable black mask?

Ed was speechless, left blinking in horrified astonishment at the funereal presence of the stranger before him. At length, the macabre figure thrust his leather gloved hand forward, presenting a small calling card. Edward reached out and took it, scanning the crisply printed, plain lettering:

Doctor Professor Karl Ruprecht Kroenen, PhD, MD

Theoretical Physics

Munich

This curious and laconic calling card was his only introduction. He made no sound whatsoever, merely withdrawing his hand to clasp it behind his back once again. At length, he tilted his head quizzically and gestured to the round table with his other hand, revealing that he held a previously unseen ebony cane with a silver eagle's head crest. Ed glanced at the table with the liquor and notebook, then locked his eyes back on the dark figure of Doctor Kroenen.

"What's going on here? How did you know I was coming? How could you possibly set all this up!?" Ed demanded, tossing aside the note paper.

The doctor tilted his head slowly in the other direction, as if mulling over Ed's questions. He turned abruptly and strode to the table. With languid grace, he lay his cane over the far arm and seated himself into the plush leather chair. With a careless gesture toward the empty seat, he leaned back and pressed his fingertips together, elbows resting on the arms of the chair as he resumed his unblinking, blank and penetrating stare.

Ed was frozen with hesitation; he furtively glanced toward the now shut door into the hall, considering if an abrupt exit might be the best possible option. When he glanced back, he felt a sickly feeling rise in his throat as he found those blank disks fixed on him still; Kroenen slowly shook his head, his shoulders quivering with a chuckle. A strange, guttural, dimly heard sound seemed to emanate from his chest, at best a grotesque impression of laughter.

Haltingly, Ed approached the table, drawing back the chair, the scroll still clutched in his fingers. He sat down, refusing to take his eyes off Kroenen for even a moment, and rested his clenched hands on the table top.

Kroenen gestured to the sherry decanter.

Ed shook his head, "No thanks...not feeling very sociable right now. So why don't you say something? I presume you have a reason for setting all this up."

Kroenen leaned forward, entwining his leather clad fingers and resting them against the vent at the bottom of his mask. He stared blankly in silence at Ed for an unnervingly long time, the utter stillness of his form seeming to oppress the room. The soft, inexorable ticking seemed louder now.

Ed smirked, crossing his arms as he tried to summon all his bravado, "What's the matter, Doctor? Cat got your tongue?"

At this, Kroenen suddenly lurched back, flipping open the notebook and quickly scrawling across the first page. He set the pen back precisely in its place, spinning the notebook so that Ed could read the message:

_Not yet._

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Look, I have better things to do than sit here and play stupid games! Just tell me what you want or I'm gone!" he said, arms tightly crossed as he stared across at his sinister companion.

More scrawling, longer this time, but once again the pen set precisely back in place, and once again the intervening silence filled with muffled ticking.

_I cannot speak, yet I have much to tell._  
_You would do well to heed my words._  
_It really would be best._

Ed glanced over the message as Kroenen resumed his previous posture, fingers intertwined. He slid the notebook back across the table. Ed sat back in his chair, clasping his hands over the arm rests. "All right," he said, "So tell me who you work for..."

The masked doctor tapped his lapel with his index finger; he was wearing a small enameled pin of a black swastika on a red field.

"Okay...so then what do you want with me, Nazi?"

Kroenen tilted his head, taking up the note pad and tearing off another page. He quickly scrawled another message, then slid the paper across to Ed again.

_First, to thank you for the little gift you sent us through The Gate._  
_And second to inquire if you might like to aid me in my work._  
_I know that you are a man of science;_  
_like me, for scientific discovery you would do anything,_  
_even shatter worlds, isn't that so?_

Ed gritted his teeth, crumpling the paper and tossing it aside, "Sorry, I don't work for Nazi scum, and I'm nothing like you! I'm done." He pushed himself back from the table, rising from his seat to leave.

The movement was so fast as to be almost imperceptible; Kroenen's left hand shot across the table, clasping with vice like power around Ed's right. The loud clank revealed, much to Ed's horror, that Kroenen's hand was, like his, made of steel. The sinister doctor half rose from his seat, leaning close enough that Ed could clearly see his face reflected in both lenses of his mask. A gravelly, inhuman utterance escaped him; it sounded like a warning. Both professors resumed their seats.

Once again, Doctor Kroenen scratched a message onto a blank sheet of note paper, but this time he capped the pen and slid it into his inside jacket pocket before sitting back into his chair, fingers intertwined, and resuming his deathly, eyeless, unblinking stare.

Ed reached across the table and took up the notepad, turning it to read the note:

_Such a pity you have failed to consider all factors_  
_in this equation, professor. So little regard for_  
_your brother and your little gypsy pet._

_Such a pity._

Ed lurched up from his seat, knocking it to the floor. He hurled the notebook across the room and into the fireplace before pointing a defiant finger into Kroenen's placid, mechanical mask. "Bastard!" he snarled, "Don't you EVER dare to threaten them! You don't know me as well as you think, _Doctor!_" he snarled. With that he lurched from the table and stomped toward the door.

He had just wrapped his hand around the door handle when something silver flashed in his peripheral vision, accompanied by a deep thud and a faint metallic ring. His eyes widened in horror as he realized it was the blade of a sword buried into the door just inches from his head. His eyes slid along its polished length, passing over the words _Meine Ehre Heisst Treue _etched into the gleaming surface, until he found himself only terrible inches from the gleaming mask. In the space of a breath, Kroenen had drawn the hidden blade from his cane and lunged across the room, a distance of at least fifteen feet, plunging his blade tip through the door a hair's breadth from Ed's cheek.

The dark mask hovered there as Ed blinked at his reflection in its polished surface, his heart pounding. He was paralyzed and without words, until he felt something warm running down his cheek and saw a splash of red reflected in those abyssal lenses. The blade had cut a hairline slit in his cheek just below his left eye, blood just beginning to seep from the tiny wound. The ticking seemed deafening now, as if agonizingly close. It was coming from Kroenen's chest.

Kroenen's shoulders began to shake before the croaking, deathly cackle escaped the vent of his mask. He was shaking with manic, gleeful laughter, or rather a detestable mockery of laughter.

Ed clutched desperately for the door knob, throwing his weight on it and pressing his back against it. He stumbled back into the hall, flinging the door shut in the face of the inhuman figure inside. Kroenen's hideous laughter began to fade as Ed backed his way down the corridor a few steps before turning and breaking into a run. He didn't look back until he had slammed the door shut and was safely back in the ballroom. A few of the guests cast disgusted glances his way. He ignored them and strode through the crowd, seeking his companion.

He found Einstein seated at a round table near the far end of the room, situated near a grandiose fireplace. He was engaged in a round of cards with Max Planck, his pipe and Max's cigar wafting great billows of aromatic smoke that hung about the table like a haze. Without a word, Ed pulled up a chair and sat down, staring blankly at the cards, his breaths coming in shallow, rapid puffs.

Einstein, glanced at his friend, then back at his cards before snapping his eyes back to Ed, "Edward! You look very pale! Are you all right, my friend?"

For a moment Ed didn't respond, but at length he blinked a few times, turning his gaze toward Einstein, "Ah...what..? Y.. yeah, everything's fine. Just got bored and thought I might as well learn to play some cards."

A smile brightened Einstein's face. "Ah, very good! I knew you would come around. Just watch us a few hands and you'll soon pick it up."

The rest of the evening passed in pleasant, uneventful conversation. For the remainder of the conference, Ed saw nothing of the sinister masked figure of Doctor Kroenen. Despite this reprieve, the night train ride home was a sleepless affair haunted by the specter of the masked man. It would be a long time before that terrible mask departed from his mind's eye.

The spring season was exhausting and hectic, leaving little time for thoughts of anything but chemistry and upcoming examinations. Late in May, as the semester ended and Ed was granted a reading break along with his beleaguered students, he was feeling particularly jovial and thought to dismiss his class early on the last Friday. He strolled past a florist in the shopping district on his walk home and spotted a magnificent bouquet of azaleas, daffodils and dogwoods. The smile on his face broadened as he dropped a handful of marks into the shopkeeper's hand and strolled off with the bouquet tucked under his arm and his case tossed cavalierly over his shoulder.

His entire body felt strangely light as he passed through the weathered oak doors of his building, deciding to forgo the elevator in favour of a jaunt up the stairs. He grinned to himself as he envisioned the glow that would overtake Noah's face when he presented the flowers. His heart even fluttered at the thought of her embrace and the soft caress of her breath against his cheek.

He rounded a corner in the stairwell on the second floor and furrowed his brow as he suddenly felt an odd twinge of dread flit across the recesses of his mind at that thought...his cheek. It was fleeting though, and he rose ever higher, past the third and approaching the door to the fourth floor. It was there, as he reached for the handle of the hall door that stood only feet from the door to their flat, that his heart was seized with pitiless, icy fingers of mortal dread.

At first he hadn't noticed as it crept into his consciousness like a whisper, but now as he stood at the door, he heard it clearly; the sonorous notes of _Der Ring des Nibelungen _wafted to his ears, muffled by the intervening walls, but distinct nonetheless.

His heart pounding, he thrust open the door and dashed down the hall to his door. He knew that Al wouldn't be home from the university yet, and Noah would be alone in the flat. He fumbled for his keys a moment before grasping at the door knob; he felt like kicking it in. The door latch finally loosed, however, and he slammed open the door and rushed toward the parlor, the music growing louder with every step. He dropped his case in the hall and flung open the door, rushing breathlessly inside. What he saw turned his heart to water.

Noah halted mid pirouette at his sudden entrance, the long flowing drape of her dress continuing on with the graceful movement before coming to rest around her bare ankles. She dropped her arms slowly in surprise and the very smile he had imagined spread across her lovely features when she spotted the vibrant bouquet. Behind her, seated like the specter of death itself, watching Noah's dance with deathly stillness and unrelenting silence, sat Doctor Kroenen. His head rested in leisurely repose against the fingers of his gloved right hand, his left clutching the silver eagle's head of his deadly cane with a relaxed grasp, giving him the air of an aficionado studying a fine work of art. On the small table beside his seat stood the gramophone that had beckoned Ed into their first horrible meeting.

"Ed!" Noah said with a smile, turning to face him, her whole figure ablaze with the afternoon sun streaming from the parlor's bay window, "You're home so early! And you brought me flowers...?"

Ed stared, breathless; his heart pounded in his chest, thundering in his ears. His gaze shifted from Noah to Kroenen's immobile visage. With a languid wave of his hand and an inhuman tilt of his head, the Doctor lifted the needle from the drum and the music ceased.

Noah's warm embrace snapped him from his horror induced thrall, and Ed forced himself to wrap his arms around her waist in return, thankful she was alive, though he dared not breathe a whisper of his fear to her. He tried to shut out Kroenen's terrible form, but Ed couldn't help noticing his fingers clenching violently around the arm of the chair as he stood.

Without a further gesture or glance, the darkness that was Kroenen slid past the two lovers and disappeared into the hall. When Ed glanced over his shoulder, he saw only the door of his flat, shut tight without a sound.

Noah regarded him with a quizzical smile, "Is everything okay, Ed?"

Ed nodded and forced a smile; he couldn't let her know the mortal danger she had been in. What good would it do? If he had really intended to kill her, she would be dead, and he wanted Ed to know it. For now, all that mattered was that she was safe. He would deal with the rest of the situation another time. "Everything's fine," he said at length, "I was just surprised to see Doctor Kroenen here...why did he come by?"

She smiled and took him by the hand, taking the flowers from him and leading him to a chair by the window. "I suppose to give us this gift. He's an odd man, this friend of yours - he never said a word, just gave me his calling card. On the back it just said, 'a gift for my friend Edward', and that's when he showed me the gramophone. I thought it would be rude not to let him in after he went to such trouble, although his mask was a bit...spooky at first."

She took down an empty vase from the bookcase and unwrapped the flowers, setting them inside. "I'll water them later..." she said half to herself before tracing her fingertips over the gilded horn of the hateful music box, "It's gorgeous, isn't it? What a thoughtful gift..."

He wanted to throw the damnable thing out the window and watch it smash into a million pieces in the street, but he swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he watched Noah's delicate fingers replace the needle on the cylinder. Wagner's majestic music filled the room again as Ed forced himself to drown his clawing dread in the salve of Noah's graceful dance. He almost heaved a sigh in relief as she took his hand and drew him into her arms, resting her head on his shoulder as they swayed together. In her arms, he was free, and for now, they were safe.

* * *

A/N: K.R. Kroenen belongs to Mike Mignola, etc etc. This is not a crossover as Kroenen is written as native to the setting and no other elements of Hellboy will appear. Frankly, I just couldn't conceive of a more awesome Nazi scientist villain to use as a foil for Ed, so here you are. Also please note that my version of Kroenen is deliberately a departure from both the comic and film versions, being in large part a combination of both characters. Hope you enjoyed the story! :D

Cheers!

Alan


End file.
